


Out for the Season

by dead_kingsmanship



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'm soft for them, M/M, Major Character Injury, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Oneshot, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, im sorry, iwaoi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dead_kingsmanship/pseuds/dead_kingsmanship
Summary: Out of the four times that the Argentinian volleyball team went to the Olympics since Oikawa joined, he only played three.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65





	Out for the Season

Out of the four times that the Argentinian volleyball team went to the Olympics since Oikawa joined, he only played three.  
He went all four times, but his knee injury prevented him from playing altogether. The whole time he was there he watched on with a hunger in his eyes, fingers twitching with the sound of every ball on palm collision. He was itching to get out there and play.  
He was lucky, the following year he was given the green light to start training again and he spent the next four years working his ass off, so he’d be able to play with his teammates on the big stage.  
The next two years showed that his hard work clearly wasn’t for nothing. He was able to stand proudly on the podium when the dust settled, twice with a gleaming gold medal hanging heavy around his neck. He’d even done the classic ‘bite’ when he was up there and yeah, that thing was real gold.  
His friends turned healthy rivals from back in Japan stood in bronze one year and silver the following, each time with a fire in their eyes, something that promised Oikawa that ‘next time, we will win.’ Oikawa accepted the challenge. 

The fourth time he went to the Olympics, he was in his mid to late ’30s, which, on average was pretty amazing in its own right, especially for a volleyball player. Even still, Oikawa didn’t want this year to be his last, he wanted to keep pushing himself to see just how far he could go before he had to call it quits.  
The start of the games was never a bore to him, each opening ceremony a unique blend of the hosts past and present culture and history. Each ceremony had him holding his breath, waiting eagerly to see what would happen next. He watched it (granted it was on a screen) with his equally starry-eyed teammates and fellow countrymen until it was their turn to head out into the stadium.  
This year, one of his teammates, a younger one who’d only been here once before, was the flagbearer. Oikawa and his team were upfront, standing behind him as they paraded the track, the weight of their country pride upon their shoulders as they took each stride with a silent promise to be the best in the competition. This was the big leagues, no matter how it looked, everyone there was hungry for a victory, to win gold and return home national sporting heroes. 

The opening ceremony concluded quicker than Oikawa would’ve liked after that, and soon enough he was walking to the Olympic village with some of his teammates, the rest of them deciding they wanted to go out for a late dinner since they didn’t have a game tomorrow. Oikawa had other things to do instead though and he had to decline the offer.  
Once the five of them reached where they were staying, Oikawa parted ways with them, bidding them goodnight with a wave and a grin before he turned and wandered across the park. 

The first thing he noticed when he saw him sitting at one of the many benches, was the light reflecting off the modest silver band around his ring finger. Iwaizumi never took it off and it made his heart swell each time he saw it. Even though Iwaizumi rarely ever told him his feelings outright, the simple things like leaving his promise ring on told Oikawa just how much he truly cared.  
It had been so long since they got to see each other in person, but even still, Iwaizumi kept the ring on, the ring that was given to him after a heated night of passion and sorrow. The promises whispered against lips that night sealed as forever a prominent memory within the band. After all these years, they were both still waiting for each other, saving themselves only for each other.  
Oikawa’s hand subconsciously drifted upwards to the necklace that hung around his neck under his suit, an identical ring threaded through the black cord. 

“Oikawa” Said man breathed when he finally noticed him standing there, his eyes shining with a softness that’s only ever reserved for him, lips quirking up at the corners as he noticed that he’d jostled Oikawa from his daydream.  
“Iwa-chan” Oikawa grinned, the nickname wrapped in a special, intimate fondness that only came out when they were alone.  
Barely a moment passed before Iwaizumi leaped up, arms opening just in time to catch Oikawa in an embrace as said man barreled towards him. Oikawa’s grip on Iwaizumi was tight, but he didn’t mind, and he didn’t bring attention to the wetness that he felt seeping through his thin dress shirt either. He didn’t blame Oikawa, not when he was on the verge of tears himself.  
Oikawa pulled himself up after he settled, pressing his lips to Iwaizumi’s without even the bat of an eye as a warning, but after years of being together, Iwaizumi expected it from him, having no trouble returning the kiss.  
Iwaizumi eventually pulled back with a rare laugh, nose scrunching up as Oikawa persisted and peppered kisses all over his face, bodies pressed so forcefully together that Iwaizumi had to reposition his feet to better hold them both up. 

“Stop that Shittykawa. I know we haven’t seen each other but you gotta calm down. We can do this later.” Iwaizumi repeatedly jabbed Oikawa in the side with a finger until said man backed off.  
“I’m holding you to that,” Oikawa whined, rubbing his side with a pout before wiping his eyes.  
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and picked up his discarded blazer from the bench, slinging it over his shoulder before he started to walk towards the exit to the village, Oikawa quickly following.

“I didn’t think you’d make it this year.”  
Oikawa gasped, a hand over his heart as he glanced at his boyfriend. “Iwa-chan! So mean. Why wouldn’t I be here?”  
Iwaizumi snorted, his lips quirking up slightly as they both fell into familiar banter.  
“Cause you’re old.” He said a-matter-of-factly, clicking his tongue like a mother scolding a child.  
“We’re the same age!” Oikawa so helpfully argued.  
“Yeah, but you’re more at risk of throwing a hip, old man.”  
Oikawa laughed then, muttering an amused ‘sure’ before they fell back into a comfortable silence as they wandered out of the gates (after showing the guards their ID), and into the city. It was definitely pretty here, the night lights casting a rainbow glow into the sky, the haze of the neon signs dancing across Iwaizumi’s face that made Oikawa’s heart throb. He was beautiful.  
They silently wandered down main streets and back roads, stopping by shop windows every so often, or taking a moment to breathe in the smells wafting from the open doors of restaurants.  
Eventually, they found a nice place to settle down though, a modest little seafood place that caught their attention. They both had their fair share of western cuisine, and both of them were decently fluent in English, so it was nothing short of a breeze to go in and order.  
Iwaizumi was the first one out of the small restaurant, parking himself at a two-person table out near the walkway, Oikawa, after getting stopped for an autograph by a few people (he knew he shouldn’t have worn his ‘Argentinian Olympic Volleyball Team: Oikawa Tōru’ name badge), he finally made it to the table, plopping himself in the chair opposite Iwaizumi with a groan.  
“You’re famous.” Said man huffed, crossing his arms on the table, and squinting at Oikawa.  
“I wish I wasn’t.” It was true. Back in high school, sure, he was very future driven both on and off the court, constantly pushing himself to be the best he can be, to be a celebrated name in the households of many when he pursued and conquered. But now, even though he still had that desire to keep playing, to keep winning, he just wished his life were… quieter. Less chaotic. His high school self probably would’ve exploded if he heard him say that, how could he when this was everything he could’ve ever wanted? Everything he worked so hard to achieve.  
He just didn’t take into account the sacrifices he had to make. 

“Oi, Shittykawa. You’re brooding. I don’t want my time spent with you to be fucking gloomy.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes again and it made Oikawa wonder how his eyes haven’t rolled out of his head by now with how much he does it. Nevertheless, the Olympian gave a mischievous smile, opening his mouth to shoot back a teasing response, but he stopped when a young waitress came out to deliver their food. She put their food and drinks down in front of the respective person, nodded politely and disappeared back inside after they thanked her. 

“This is nice. We haven’t done this in a while, huh? Eating at the same time over facetime doesn’t count either.” Oikawa snickered, pointing his fork accusatorily at Iwaizumi who raised his hands in defense before digging into his own plate of fresh fish.  
Oikawa snorted at that, picking up a chip with his free hand and popping it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Their first ‘date night’ since Oikawa left for Argentina and Iwaizumi came back home from studying abroad in California, was a very poorly organised shared meal over a video call. Nearly every date they had since was like that, save for the occasional times Iwaizumi would come to visit Oikawa, and they’d juggle seeing each other in between his games, and Olympic preparations.  
Granted, they were a little weird since Oikawa would usually be eating dinner, and Iwaizumi would either be having breakfast or lunch depending on how late Oikawa was willing to get to bed. It was strangely perfect though, something so them that it just worked, no matter how disastrous it would go, it always mattered so much to them both.  
Now, however, was one of those rare times they actually got to be with each other, to have a proper date even though this one was just as spontaneous and poorly planned as the others, but Oikawa wouldn’t have it any other way.

They both chatted away about life, what they missed, what they’ve both been doing, and they both definitely had their fair share of stupid volleyball stories to tell. Iwaizumi would talk about whatever stupid things the Japan team were doing, namely the constant chaos Kageyama and Hinata would cause and Bokuto would egg on; and Oikawa would talk about similar chaos his own teammates (who Iwaizumi had the pleasure of seeing many times before) would get into.  
They stayed until they were told to leave because the restaurant wanted to close, and even then, they joked and laughed with each other all the way back to the Olympic Village. 

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. I still hear him in my dreams,” Oikawa put his hands on his head to flatten down his hair, expression turning serious, “Oikawa-kun, you should have come to Shiratorizawa.” He spoke in an unnaturally monotone voice before he burst into laughter, Iwaizumi joining him with his own chuckles.  
“Hey now, me and Ushiwaka are best buds, remember? I can easily drag you to his room and get him to torture you with that.” Iwaizumi threatened, but even with the smile on his face, Oikawa knew he wouldn’t hesitate to.  
Oikawa hummed softly, both of them quieting down as the Olympian reached out to put a hand on the trainer's cheek causing Iwaizumi to close his eyes for a brief moment and lean into the warmth.

“I missed you.” Oikawa murmured, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against Iwaizumi’s lips before pulling back.  
Iwaizumi just gave Oikawa a soft, genuine smile instead of a response. He didn’t need to say anything though anyway, Oikawa already knew, he knew everything that Iwaizumi wanted to say, everything that got caught on his tongue when he tried to express what his heart so desperately wanted him too. Oikawa just knew.

“You should go get some rest; you’ve got training tomorrow.” Iwaizumi said instead, nodding towards where Oikawa was staying.  
Said man nodded, lowered his hand, and grinned then, “I’ll see you from the podium.”  
“Ha! In your dreams Shittykawa, the next time I’ll see you will be when Japan thrashes you.” Iwaizumi’s eyes burned with the fiery promise of competition, and even though he wouldn’t be playing himself, Oikawa knew better than to underestimate him.  
Oikawa’s smile never wavered, silently accepting the challenge before he turned and headed off, waving over his shoulder to an amused Iwaizumi before he disappeared from sight. 

The next week went by in a blur, every day seemingly molding together so it was difficult for Oikawa to even keep up. It was the same routine: get up, practice, play a match. After that, he lost track of what he did. He kept contact up with Iwaizumi via text since they were both too unbelievably busy or tired to find a good time to meet up. They did see each other briefly in passing when Japan left the court and Argentina entered, but that was it.  
In the second week though, on Wednesday, Japan and Argentina had a match scheduled. It was the final, the match to determine the gold medalist for the men’s Olympic Volleyball. This was the big one and Oikawa was more than ready to prove Iwaizumi wrong and smirk down at him from the podium with a look of ‘I told you so’.  
Oikawa and his team started their warm-up in a separate room off the main arena. They were all experienced, all of them calm, as expected of a team with two consecutive Olympic gold medal finals. 

“You ready Oikawa?” One of his teammates, Sebastián grinned over at him from his position on the floor. They were doing a few stretches before they launched into their proper scheduled warmup.  
Oikawa nodded, shooting his own smile back, “Hell yeah I am.”

Their warm-up went off without a hitch, everyone was performing at the top of their game, senses sharp and the flow of their movements as smooth as a gentle stream. They were ready to get out there and defend their title. Oikawa took one more glance at his teammates before he focused back on his knee off to the side. It gave an uncomfortable twinge, but once he properly fastened his brace in place after strapping it, he felt good, game ready.  
The Argentinian team made their way to the court once they were called, striding in, in the order of their starting line-up when their names were announced. They then got themselves organised on the court when they were told, Oikawa starting in the back row to serve.  
The whistle blew and Oikawa didn’t even hesitate before he tossed the ball into the air, ‘olé’ ringing nostalgically through his head as he ran, jumped, and slammed the ball across the net with such a force he could practically see the air shift as it flew. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t start the game out on a service ace, the Japan teams libero, Yaku, smirked as he picked up the ball with ease, a reminder to Oikawa that this team wanted blood. They were after the gold, but the Argentina team definitely wasn’t planning on giving it up.

The game was tough, both teams having an extreme power struggle, desperately trying to get a break. It was only the first set out of five, and they’d reached a duce about six or so times now, Oikawa wasn’t counting. It was clear though, that neither team was willing to simply give up or go down without a fight.  
The crowd was roaring, coaches on the sidelines on their feet as they screamed out to their players to give them any sort of advice that would even remotely give them a shot at an advantage. It seemed like everyone was on the edge of their seat, waiting to see who would win this seemingly endless game of tug of war. Oikawa silently pleaded it would end soon though, he needed a break desperately and his knee was in pain, but of course, in classic Oikawa fashion, he refused to show it and just continued to play.

Oikawa pivoted, balanced on one foot to relieve some of the pressure on his knee, as he set the ball to Bruno, who spiked it straight down onto the floor in front of a frustrated Kageyama’s feet. Good, they just had one more point to get, and it looked like the whole Japan team looked frustrated, not just their genius setter. Even better. The more irritated they get, the more they fumble and hesitate.  
Oikawa glanced back at his teammates, they looked unbothered, even when their coach called in their pinch server, they just readied themselves for another battle. Santiago hit a jump-float over, but with the skill of their opponents, they easily received it and hit it right back. This game of back and forth went on for a few minutes before Atsumu dumped the ball over the net with a manic grin, causing them to return to a duce. He tried not to get irritated, Oikawa breathing slowly to calm himself before he focused back on the game.  
In a match like this, its hard for the players not to get frustrated and start to panic, its how each team deals with it that makes or breaks the game. Oikawa knew that all too well, so did his teammates. As long as they stayed level-headed, they were sure to be fine. 

The ball was in play once more and thus began the next battle. But then Oikawa heard the familiar gruff cry of his usually silent boyfriend from the sidelines.  
“The right side! Right!” 

Oikawa didn’t even have time to react before Sebastián was in front of him, receiving a spike that was aimed directly to the right of him. Bastards. The ball, however, didn’t go the direction Sebastián intended, instead, it went out in the direction of the official's benches.  
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then.

Oikawa took off in the direction of the ball, limping. He set his jaw as he powered on and leaped over the padded barriers. His hands made contact with the ball in mid-air and Oikawa set it back to his team, but he didn’t know where it went from there. Instead, his head was filled with a blinding light as he landed, his right knee locking up and collapsing with the weight of his body. He lurched forward, side hitting a table before his extended right leg was slammed into the wall with the force of his body behind it.  
Oikawa didn’t hear it, he didn’t even feel it, but when he looked up through dizzy and swimming vision, he paled at the sight of his leg, bent at an unnatural angle with the bulge of broken bone stretching the skin.  
He breathed in, breathed out and let out a blood-curdling scream.

What he saw next followed in this order: the lights of the stadium (which are so blinding it’s a miracle they can play with them on), a green-tinted plastic mask that was way too close to his face for comfort (he didn’t complain, especially when it released a gas that took him places, made him feel good), and finally the face of an odd woman that looked strangely like his mother. Then he was out. 

\-------------------

The next time he woke up, he heard the soft beeping of several machines surrounding him and the soft murmur of people on TV chatting away in the background. It was dim, the soft glow of orange filtering in through the slightly parted curtains and catching on the little dust particles that flitted gently around the room. If not for the horrible clinical-ness of the place, he would’ve loved to stay here, frozen in this moment just a little longer. Brown eyes drifted around the room. The large double doors were closed, and the lights were off; untouched food sat cold in a tray next to his bed, and an air conditioner blew gentle streams of warm air on the wall above the table.  
His gaze drifted down then at the figure hunched over his bed and resting on his good leg. Iwaizumi snored softly, body gently rising and falling with each steady breath. His arms were resting on his leg and crossed under his head to cushion it. His hair tussled more than usual and there were red rings around his eyes. Oikawa frowned. That wasn’t a look he ever wanted to see on Iwaizumi ever again.  
Oikawa sighed then, running a hand through his own hair as he finally looked at his right leg after putting it off for as long as he had. It was propped up in a sling encased in a hard cast that reached his thigh. There was no way in hell he was moving that any time soon. 

“Shit” He spat under his breath, tears welling up in his eyes. The longer he looked, the more the reality of never playing in his league again hit him. The tears overflowed, a waterfall cascading down his red cheeks and falling onto his hospital gown. He sobbed silently into the voided room, chest heaving with the effort to keep himself as quiet as possible, that didn’t exactly work in his favor though. Oikawa managed to shake Iwaizumi awake thanks to the jolts and shakes of his body.  
His boyfriend blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked at who woke him. Wordlessly, he shifted up onto the bed and held Oikawa in a tight embrace, one hand stroking through his hair while he other sat firmly in the middle of his back to try and steady him. Iwaizumi swallowed thickly; Oikawa rarely ever cried like this. Sure he’d sniffle and tear up every so often, but this time he was sobbing, the wails he was now letting out were eerie, echoing with a hollow emptiness that shattered Iwaizumi’s heart into pieces. 

They sat like that for what felt like an eternity until Oikawa was reduced to sniffles and the occasional hiccup. Iwaizumi bit his lip, unsure of what exactly he could logically say to help ease his boyfriend, but he eventually just settled on speaking from the heart.  
With a hesitant glance down, Iwaizumi eventually manned up and spoke softly, “I’m so proud of you. You played so well.”  
He felt Oikawa stiffen, growing worryingly silent for a few moments before he sniffled again, his own grip on Iwaizumi growing much tighter.

“You stayed.” The Olympian whispered like it was the most heartwarming thing that someone had ever done for him, in his eyes though, it probably was, especially when he was like this.  
“I made a promise, remember? I said I’d never leave you.”  
It was true, Oikawa knew that, but when he was beaten down and vulnerable, it would make him wonder why Iwaizumi would ever stay. They had this conversation so many times, and each time it would go the same way, with Oikawa questioning his lovability and Iwaizumi firmly telling him otherwise.  
Oikawa nodded, letting out a shaky breath. 

“I’m retiring.”  
Iwaizumi blinked. “…Excuse me?”  
Oikawa lent back against his propped-up pillows, breaking free of Iwaizumi’s now limp grip.  
“You heard me.”  
“Oh I heard you alright, but why? After all this effort. Don’t tell me you’re giving up because of that.” Iwaizumi jabbed a finger at his leg, “Because if you are, I’ll beat the shit out of you. You know it’ll heal and you know I can help you get better you just-“  
“Hajime.”  
Iwaizumi’s gaze softened when he looked over at Oikawa’s gentle, reassuring smile.  
“I think I’ve had enough. I’ll play socially with our friends, with you, but I think I’ve had a good run. It’s time for me to settle down. I want to finally fulfill my promise to you, Hajime.” Oikawa reached out to hold Iwaizumi’s hand, tracing his fingers over the ring he wore.  
Iwaizumi’s mouth went dry, eyes wide in surprise. “Tōru.”  
“I want to marry you, Hajime. When I get out of here, I want to propose to you. I think we’ve both waited long enough, don’t you think?” Oikawa grinned, even through the red face and puffy eyes, he still looked as radiant as ever in Iwaizumi’s eyes.  
“I’ll hold you to it. You’re out for the season, so no excuses.” Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes and poked Oikawa square in the chest, but he couldn’t hide his smile.  
Oikawa closed his eyes and lent forward, capturing Iwaizumi’s lips in a slow kiss.  
Life from here would be rocky, he knew, but with Iwaizumi now by his side, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually sprained my ankle prior to writing this, so, thanks me for that horrible source of inspiration. I've also never written angst before so I hope it was decent enough.


End file.
